Inked
by RyderBPD
Summary: *#5* Flack finds Liz Ryder unable to sleep in the middle of a New York summer night. They explore feelings of loss, body art, their friendship. . .and finally each other. Rated M for sexual content and swearing. Very long oneshot.


**Author's Note**: Thanks to all of you for your reviews of my work! I'm so grateful to everyone that has taken the time to read the stories I've posted. Special shout-outs go to Maz101 and dawn2323 for embracing Liz so whole-heartedly.

This story takes place two years after the end of Season 5. The M-rated parts were inspired by a good ol' fashioned slow jam—Silk's "Freak Me." As you'll be able to tell from the song lyrics, what you're about to read is rated M for a darned good reason.

And it's my first time writing any sexual content, so be gentle!

* * *

**_Let me lick you up and down_**

**'_Til you say stop_**

**_Let me play with your body, baby_**

**_Make you real hot_**

**_Let me do. . ._**

**_All the things you want me to do _**

**Silk, "Freak Me"**

* * *

**Inked**

Warm July air grazed Don Flack's cheeks as he opened his eyes into complete darkness. Thick shadows of grey and black hung around his bedroom, only dissipating in the wake of fierce blinking. Shaking the inner cobwebs from his head, he used long and lean arms to sit up and turn towards the clock. Screaming red numbers informed him that it was 2:48 on Friday morning.

He couldn't find a reason for his awakening—no noise had penetrated his dreams, and the lone sheet covering his body hadn't made a break for the floor._ Spidey-Sense, _he thought, scoffing at the name he and Messer had given the heightened awareness that came standard with a badge. _Somethin' ain't right. _

Pushing aside the sheet and moving his olive-skinned legs to the floor, he stood up and winced at the cacophony of cracks that erupted from his joints. _Shit, I'm gettin' too old for this_, he thought. _If it ain't a perp that keeps me from seein' my pension, it's gonna be my own damn body fallin' apart. _

Flack picked a white t-shirt up off the floor and put it on, the fabric's hesitations betraying the crazily mussed state of his hair. As he slipped his arms through the sleeves, he felt a slight twinge of pain in his right deltoid. Stifling a grunt, the built Detective made his way out into the living room.

A striking woman with fiery red hair was staring out of his sliding glass door and into the surprisingly quiet New York night. Flack gazed at the couch and noted the rumpled blankets that Liz had left behind, then turned his attention back to the good Doctor.

She had her arms folded over the front of a short black robe, made of what looked like soft silk. He could just make out a small patch of the top of her firm breasts, which were rising and falling in time with the cadence of her breath. Her robe stopped about halfway down her hamstrings, making it impossible for Flack's blue eyes not to continue along that same trajectory. He let his gaze travel over the smooth lines of her long, pale legs, only stopping when he reached the intersection between her feet and the floor. Although she did not know it, he would have had no trouble continuing to drink her in until morning came. But his obligations as a friend overruled the heat her beauty was stirring within his chest, and so he chose to try and figure out the source of her insomnia. Stepping forward, Flack moved into Liz's line of sight.

Liz had heard her best friend's footfalls on the carpet as he'd exited his room, but she hadn't wanted to turn and break the silence just yet. Now, though, as he walked over to her left she shifted her weight to face him. Dr. Ryder took in the raw physicality of the tall man before her—for although he thought he was getting old, the female and gay male populations of New York City would severely beg to differ. Quickly her glittering green eyes swept over his thick, muscular legs, following their defined lines ever-northward until her irises were foiled by the fabric of his tight blue boxers. She noted the way his simple t-shirt clung to the hard pecs she knew to be hiding beneath those white threads and tried not to lick her lips. His arms similarly strained against their cloth captors, swelling the large veins on top of his biceps.

A deep voice quietly slid out of his throat, laced with the gravel of early morning hours.

"Hey, Lizzie."

She smiled sadly and answered. "Hey, D."

"You okay?"

Liz brought a hand behind her neck and rubbed it, attempting to mask her pain. "You want the real answer or the cop answer?"

Flack's lips pushed a knowing smirk onto the left side of his mouth. Police officers were always fine when you asked how they were. Anything more and it'd get in the way of the job. Anything less and brass'd send you to the department shrink. Well, maybe not in Liz's case. She'd just gone ahead and _become_ the department shrink for BPD's E-13. Gave up her private practice and jumped back into the land of the blues and the home of the burnouts. But that didn't mean she was beyond ignoring her own personal shit. He'd figured something was wrong when she'd knocked on his door at nine-thirty the previous night, but she hadn't wanted to talk about it. And he didn't want to push.

Don didn't answer his friend, instead choosing to give her a _look. _ She almost laughed upon seeing it. With one thick black eyebrow reaching for his forehead and his former smirk twisted into a scowl of disapproval, Flack had busted out what Liz called his "D ain't buyin' it" face. As usual, she caved immediately after its appearance. "All right, all right. I give." She pulled her gaze from his concerned face and went back to looking out over the sea of skyscraper lights. The nail of her long and graceful right index finger was inserted into her mouth, and she gnawed on the enamel for a few seconds before bringing forth her explanation.

"S'been five years, D."

His brow furrowed for a second as he tried to pinpoint who she was talking about. _Lizzie's lost so many, _he thought. _But Matty died in '05, and her ma went right after we busted the Cabbie Killer in '08. So that leaves—_

"PK," he said.

She nodded blankly. "July 15th. '06."

His still-fuzzy brain tried to think of something that would coax more from her full pink lips, but before he could say anything she spoke again. "That's the thing about bein' a shrink—you know exactly _why_ you're grieving in a certain way. There's research, case studies, patient manifests that explain it. But none of that shit actually makes it go away. Nothing tells you how to stop the pain."

Liz swallowed and continued. "Every year I try to make peace with it, y'know? I tell myself that this time I'll be able to take his death and make it just one more part of my life. I'll start remembering just the good stuff he and I did together. But then I get to this day and it—"

She broke off, her emerald irises glistening with the threat of tears. Flack walked to her side, placing a large and weathered hand on her shoulder. She did not turn to face him, for she knew that one glimpse of those ice-blue eyes would break her. Instead Liz grunted angrily at herself for her weakness. _Let him in,_ her heart argued. _He knows what you're goin' through. He knows better than anybody._ She curled her fingernails into closed fists and pressed on, her suddenly thickened Back Bay accent punctuating each excruciating word.

"It's like it's happening all over again. I got my hands shoved into the bullet wounds and I can feel his heart slowin' down. His hand's squeezin' mine in the back of the bus, and I'm hearin' the random words fly outta my mouth while I'm tryin' to talk to him--keep him awake. The EKG starts flatlinin' and his eyes roll back in his head, and all of a sudden he's just gone. No warnin', no nothin'. He's just gone."

Liz fell silent once more, shuddering at the thought of the incoherent screaming that had erupted from her lips when they'd lost him. Up to her elbows in PK's blood, she'd pulled her partner to her chest and shrieked like a banshee, cursing everything from his cracked-out killer to the God he believed so fervently in. _How could a loving God let such a man be taken from the world in this way? _

Flack gently turned her to face his body and silently gathered the beautiful redhead's tense frame into his strong arms. He knew that any words he might utter would be totally inadequate in the wake of what she'd just said. In the years they'd known each other, she'd talked very little about PK's death. Once, not too long after Jess died, Lizzie'd recounted parts of that horrible day. Quietly described the two blasts that rang out and sliced through the thick summertime air. Explained what it was like to watch the color suddenly drain from her face in the shop's bathroom mirror. Talked of the striking contrast between the floor and Pak-Man's scarlet blood oozing over its clean white tile. But she'd kept silent about it since then.

She startled him a little by beginning to speak once more. This time any hope of a strong front was gone—for although she did not shake or wail, her words were defeated and laced with thick tears. "Why wasn't it me?" she said, placing her still-balled fists on Flack's shoulders. "It could just as easily have been him that went to take a piss and me that took the slugs. He had a chick he was gonna propose to, had his seven brothers and sisters, his mom and dad. . .shit, I can still see their faces at the funeral, cryin' 'cause their son wasn't ever comin' back. . .why him and not me? It shoulda been me!" She slumped into Don's arms, letting someone else bear the weight of her sorrow—even if just for a moment.

Flack found himself nodding at the words that had slipped from Lizzie's lips. Although it had been more than two years since Jess' murder, his own survivor's guilt still gnawed sharply at his heart. Every day that he rose out of bed he wondered why it had been his partner to take those Desert Eagle .50s and not him. "Hey, hey, hey," he said, bringing a hand to the back of Liz's head and holding her close. "Don't talk like that." He lightly stroked her thick red hair and felt the proud doctor's body relax in response. "Look, Red, you know I'm no expert on all this stuff. I haven't exactly been the picture of healthy grief."

Liz nodded through her streaming tears. She knew about the drinking and the rage that had consumed him immediately following Jess' death—had been trusted with the tales of the haunting nightmares where he was forced to watch his Angell die over and over again. She knew better than anyone the hell he'd walked through in the last two years.

"And I didn't know your boy Pak-Man, but from what you've told me he was a stand-up guy and a helluva cop. Him bein' gone doesn't change that, ok? Believe me, Lizzie, I know what it's like to wake up in the mornin' and wish you could switch places. It could've easily been me on that hospital slab if I was the one babysittin' Dunbrook that day. You were there at Jess' funeral—you saw her ol' man's face. I'd give Cliff his baby girl back in a second if I could."

He reached beneath her chin and gently tipped it to lock her eyes with his own. "But that ain't the way it turned out. And you know me, I'm not gonna give you some bullshit about 'everything happening for a reason,' cause I don't believe that good cops are s'posed to get shot by ex-military scum. Or tweaked out, jacked-up hobos." He shrugged. "And don't think I don't still cry for her every day. I'm not sayin' I'm cool with what happened. I'm just sayin' that we're here and they're not. So we gotta do what we can to figure our shit out."

Dr. Ryder could feel relief spreading over the entirety of her body—just one more reason she loved Don Flack as much as she did. He'd always been able to combine his comfort with the perfect amount of inspirational prodding. She pulled back from his embrace and found her voice again, reaching deep into her tattered heart for strength. "Yeah. Yeah, you got it, D. Maybe you should take over my shrink's chair for a while, huh? Tell some'a my Boston boys that they're nuts?" He scoffed and cracked a smile, but remained silent. She swallowed and went on. "You know what it is to be missing someone who knows stuff about you that nobody else does. There's just a space there that's never gonna be filled again." Flack nodded in agreement.

Liz looked at the floor, embarrassed by what she was about to ask. But it was for PK, and just as it was when they were sitting in freezing squad cars, kicking down a drug runner's door or impatiently waiting for backup, Liz would do anything for the Irishman she missed so dearly. "Would you, um, take a look at it? For him?" She gestured to her right shoulder, a melancholy look in her eyes. Flack instantly knew what she meant, and agreed with a simple "Sure." She turned around so that her back was to him, and reaching up with his big hands Flack slowly pulled aside the black silk covering her scapula.

Revealed beneath the fabric were the beginnings of a thin dark line, slightly curved. Liz fought off a shiver that threatened to encompass her entire body as Flack continued peeling the robe back from her skin. Unsure as to why, she shyly covered her right breast with her hand as Don exposed her collarbone and chest to the night air. _He's seen it all before,_ she thought, confused._ What's my deal? _

Flack finished easing the garment down his friend's arm and stepped back to marvel at the sight in front of his eyes. An old-school Boston Police Department shield graced Liz's taut back, its lines encasing PK's old badge number. #_1892._ Directly over the badge in an italic script lay the outline of the letters P.A.K, and underneath it the date of his death. A memorial to her fallen partner that swelled each time she drew breath. Don had glimpsed flashes of it in the past—mostly as he was tearing off her clothes—but never before had he stopped and given it its due respect.

As Flack looked at her tattoo, Liz closed her eyes and pictured her Pak-Man. Saw his dark brown hair and laughing grey eyes in her mind as clear as she felt his blood on her hands the day he died. She'd gotten inked the week after his death; quite literally finished burying him at Mt. Hope and then walked into a shop with the design in hand. Standing there in a New York apartment with her best friend's eyes on her body, Liz thought about the words that were emblazoned on the shield just beneath PK's badge number. _First In The Nation. _And just like that, she was back at the funeral, standing in front of the pulpit of the packed Old South Church.

"_Patrick Aiden Kennedy was always bursting with pride for the Boston Police Department, and those four words—First In The Nation--comprised his outlook on life both as a man and a cop. He strove to be the best at everything he did. And I can confidently say that he succeeded in doing just that when we were on our beat together. PK," _she'd said, choking up and turning to the flower-laden casket in front of her_, "you were the best partner a blue coulda asked for. I miss ya, buddy." _

More tears rolled down her cheeks as she hugged her breasts closer to her body. "It's amazing, Lizzie," came the deep voice from behind her. "I never really looked at it up close before." She reached over her shoulder and pulled her robe to cover the tattoo once more. Turning around, she gave Don a small, sad smile. "Thanks, D. I figured he woulda done the same for me. He deserved better than what he got."

Flack gave her a knowing nod. He decided that if anyone deserved to see what he'd been shielding from the world, it was Liz. Without a word, he reached down to his waist and gripped the plain white t-shirt in his tough hands. Pulling the fabric up over his head, he tossed it on an arm of the nearby couch.

Liz resisted the urge to let out a low whistle at the bare torso before her. For despite jagged scars from the bombing, to her Flack's body was perfect. Dark tendrils of chest hair swirled about his well-defined pecs, which led down into firm but not overly sculpted abs. And as her eyes traveled farther down his skin, her ultimate weakness came into view. . .those two cut lines running inside of his hips sent a flush through her every time she saw them. She was, therefore, almost thankful when he turned his right shoulder to face her. Liz stepped closer to inspect a new series of dark lines covering his huge deltoid.

The outline of a fallen angel was now permanently stamped into Flack's upper arm. Two simple wings lay flush with a woman's lowered head, filled-in dark hair spilling out over the limp-looking body. Above the wings stretched the somber motto of the NYPD—_Fidelis Ad Mortem._ Liz knew that the phrase "Faithful Unto Death" described Detective Jessica Angell better than most. The woman had given her life protecting the people of the city she loved. Beneath the line on which the angel rested, Liz found the badge number of Flack's slain partner. _#9521. _

As Liz reached out and touched Flack's shoulder, the relieved Detective noted a look of utter amazement in his friend's eyes. He'd worried about what she (never mind the 1-2 unis) might think about a guy like him gettin' inked with an angel, even if it was in memory of a fellow blue. But it had felt right to him. And he'd gotten further affirmation of how many lives Jess had touched while he was in the tattoo parlor—the guy who'd done the tat had recognized her badge number from the paper and had offered his condolences. Huge dude with a shaved head and ink in every color had had a tear in his eye as he'd engraved Angell's memory into Flack's pores.

Liz hadn't been able to keep her mouth from falling open as she stared at the simple artwork before her. _Simple but beautiful. No bullshit. Just like Jess. _"It's gorgeous, D," she said, in a low voice of reverence. "When'd you get it done?" "Back in May," he said. "Y'know, two-year anniversary of her death and all. You like it, huh?" "Yeah," the redhead replied. "It's perfect. Why'd you put it there?"

Flack smiled and thought back to that warm night in the street three years ago. "It's where she grabbed my arm when she threw me outta the way of that damn cab. She saved my life that night. Least I could do was put somethin' there in her honor."

They fell silent for a moment, thinking of those they'd lost in the line of duty. The still air in the apartment lay heavy with enduring grief, and yet the two friends felt a deep appreciation for one another. If not for constant support from New York to Boston and back again, they'd probably have turned to liquid comfort in order to get themselves through the pain. Alone.

As Flack's eyes traveled over Liz's body, he noticed that when she'd pulled her robe back over her shoulder she hadn't tightened it up again. He could just make out a hint of what looked like purple directly underneath her left breast. "Hey, Red, what's that?" he said, tipping his chin towards her and furrowing his brow. She looked down and her face flushed. "Oh, it's um, it's new," she said, a little embarrassed. "Can I see it?" he said, a bit hesitantly. Despite their comfort level with one another, whatever the tat was it was in a pretty intimate place. And ever since he'd finally figured out that he loved her, the last thing he wanted was to make her feel weird.

Liz had a moment of uncertainty as to whether or not to shed her robe for Flack. Although they'd just been talking about very solemn matters, she wasn't sure if she'd be able to control herself with his eyes on that part of her body. But the story behind the ink was an important one. One the man she loved needed to hear. Slowly she untied the strip of silk encircling her waist and let the halves of the garment gently fall away. Cupping her breasts with her hands, she lifted them so Flack could see what lay beneath.

Don's breath rushed from his lungs at the sight before him. The small scrap of purple he'd glimpsed was actually the innermost stripe of a tattoo arching down half of the left side of Liz's body. Starting from small lines underneath her breast and fanning outward, seven of her ribs were shaded in to create a brilliant rainbow. At the very end of the yellow stripe was one letter in a simple block script: M.

The tough New York cop was mesmerized. "Wow," he finally managed to utter. "That's incredible, Lizzie. It's for Matty, yeah?"

The good Doctor nodded, wincing a little at the sound of her brother's name. "Yeah. Got it about a month ago. Rough time 'cause Matt and Jack got married in June of '04--and then Matty died around the same time the year after that. So Case, Jack and I got together and decided we wanted to do something for him. I got the left side of the rainbow, Casey got the right and Jack's got the top of it right under his xyphoid process."

Flack smiled at his friend's choice of words. _Leave it to Lizzie to use medical terminology while describin' a memorial tattoo. _

He shook his head in disbelief. "Your baby sister got one too? The one who hates tags on her shirts 'cause she says they stick into her neck?"

"You're not gonna believe this, but it was actually her idea."

"Man. Never woulda guessed. I bet it hurt like hell."

She confirmed this as fact, remembering the feel of the needle scraping over her ribcage. "Hurt like a bastard. But with Jack and Casey there, it wasn't so bad. And y'know, in a way the physical pain we were experiencing was empowering. We'd all three of us been so torn up inside after he died, fighting demons we couldn't even see. Getting stuck was like our way of saying that we'd still go to hell and back for him."

Liz thought about how she, her sister and her brother-in-law had been lined up in chairs right next to each other in the bright and clean parlor. She and Case had locked eyes the whole time the needles were digging into their sides, Matty's memory suspended between his sisters' gazes. After a while, Jack began to cry—not from the dull ache of the needle, but the searing pain of having his husband ripped from his side by a microscopic killer. Soon Casey and Liz were crying as well, and the small tattoo shop in Southie was transformed into a house of mourning lamentation. It was the most therapeutic experience of Liz's life.

Don looked into Liz's green eyes then, overcome with awe at the ever-persevering woman standing naked before him. Moonlight streamed through the glass of the sliding door, bathing her in a soft white haze. The rainbow on her ribs was gleaming brilliantly, hope from each color shining into the surrounding darkness of the apartment. _I can't take it anymore_, Flack thought. _I love this crazy Boston chick, and I gotta tell her._ Jess came into his mind then, and he knew that his fallen partner would want him to move forward with his life. To be with someone who cared about him. He just hoped Lizzie still felt the way she did last year, when she'd opened up and confessed her love.

Flack closed the gap between their bodies, and before he could stop himself he reached out and slowly began tracing the outer red stripe of the rainbow. Liz inhaled sharply as the slight hint of Don's fingernails met her skin. She could feel her breasts swelling underneath her hands—two hardened nipples straining against now-sweating palms. It was so wrong, this arousal on the heels of such heightened mourning. But his hands had always felt like they were made for her skin, and the tenderness currently present in his touch was making it difficult to think about anything else. Unable to restrain herself, she let out a sigh of pleasure. Flack took this as encouragement and kept trailing his fingers along the lines of her tattoo.

When he reached the end of the purple line, he took her hands away from her soft breasts and began running his fingertips along their curves. "D," she said, breathlessly, "I—I think you should probably stop that. . . I don't know if it's right, after everything we've been talkin' about."

Don stopped his caressing, reaching up and taking his friend's face in his hand. "Liz, I'm sorry they're gone," he whispered. "All three of 'em. I never knew Matty and PK, but if they were anything like you they musta been good guys. It's horrible that they got taken from us the way they did. I think about Jess every day—but I think she'd be pissed at me for not takin' advantage of what's in front of my face 'cause I'm stuck on missin' her."

He paused for a second, touching her cheek. "I just wanna help you get through this stuff." She looked confused. "You are helping me," she said. "You're always there when I need you. You don't have to supplement that with sex." "Naw, that's not what I mean," he said. "I love you, Lizzie."

Her heart jumped in her chest upon hearing those words fall from his lips. Last March when she'd spilled her guts, he'd indicated that he cared for her and that a relationship between them might work out. But he'd never said 'I love you.'

She snapped out of her shock to listen to his rich voice go on. "Look, I don't just wanna be there for you over the phone or when one of us comes to visit, okay? I wanna be there every mornin' when you get up, wanna make you breakfast while you read the sports section lookin' for crap about your stupid Sox. I think the people we've lost would want us to be happy. And for me, bein' happy means bein' with you."

Rare was the moment when Doctor Elizabeth Ryder was completely speechless, but she found herself unable to say anything in the wake of Flack's intimate declaration. So many questions threatened to consume her mind regarding the logistics of a relationship between the two of them. _Where would we live? Who would have to give up their job? And, most importantly, could a Rangers guy and a Bruins girl really live together without killing one another?_ Liz quickly realized, though, that coming to grips with the past was pointless if you were just going to obsess about the future. Turning her attention back to the strong shirtless cop in front of her, the head doctor pushed all worries out of her own mind and wrapped her arms around Flack's neck. Looking into his oceanic blue eyes, the tall redhead spoke from the depths of her rapidly beating heart: "I love you too, D."

Their mouths then met for the first time in four years. Flack's ever-expressive lips opened wide to move on and around Liz's own with ease, stirring intense heat within her body. In response, she slipped her tongue into his mouth and began exploring. They stood there tasting each other for what seemed like hours, getting reacquainted through the deepest of kisses.

The two friends broke away from one another, realizing that this kiss had differed from every other in the past. In their days of casual screwing around, the meeting of their lips was more of an afterthought—something to do with their mouths when they weren't going down on each other. But that had all changed now with Flack's admission of love.

Gently Don bent down and took Liz into his arms, lifting her into the air. He began heading towards his room, pulse racing as he anticipated touching her body. The feel of his rigid biceps pressing into her back excited her even further, and she carefully placed her soft lips on his neck. Flack closed his eyes and nearly lost the ability to walk in response to her warm and wet mouth on his skin—how he managed to make it all the way into his room was beyond his comprehension.

Once in the bedroom, Flack laid his best friend down on the comforter covering his bed. The contrast between the billowy white duvet and her open black robe was striking, and he stood back to admire her body for a second.

"Can I help you, Detective?" Liz's face was smiling, but he knew she was a little embarrassed. Although she might pretend otherwise, she had trouble with people paying a lot of attention to her. "Whassamatter with you?"

"Nothin'," he said. "Absolutely nothin'. Just lookin' at ya."

So saying, he proceeded to lie down next to her left side such that his bare abs were brushing up against the edges of her inked rainbow. "Close your eyes, Red," he said, gently. She arched an eyebrow and shot him a skeptical look, which he returned with a smile. "Trust me." "All right," she agreed, "but on one condition. Whatever you're about to do, you gotta do it with your eyes closed too."

He grinned and bit his tongue a little bit. Nothing ever came easy with Lizzie.

Flack propped himself up on his right hand and looked into the gold-flecked green eyes of the beautiful redhead lying next to him. He reached up toward her face and gently brushed his fingers over her eyelids, plunging her into the delicious darkness of anticipation. Closing his own eyes, his other senses immediately heightened in response to the loss of his vision. Liz's quickened breath could be heard punctuating the electric air between their bodies, and he felt himself harden at the thought that she would soon be breathing even faster.

He first moved his long fingers up over her forehead, immersing them in the thick threads of her fragrant hair. He'd reached the top of his love's body—now it was time to make his way down the entire gorgeous landscape lying flush with his legs. The feel of her skin beneath his slightly shaking fingertips was incredible. Don could sense every minute movement Liz made, felt her chest rise with excitement at the thought of where his hands would go next. He traced the line of her jaw and found himself smiling, thinking about the many stubborn faces she'd made at him over the years of their friendship.

Next Flack ran his attentive fingers around Liz's slightly parted lips. When the tip of his index finger passed over the center of her mouth, she deftly curled her tongue around its ridges and gently sucked at his skin. A shiver ran down Don's spine as he gave in to his bedmate's teasing. The subtle pull of her wet mouth around his trigger finger was the most erotic thing he'd felt in a long time, and through the resulting pangs of lust he barely heard himself whisper, "Jesus, Lizzie. I thought I was the one callin' the shots here."

"You just keep thinkin' that, baby," came her mumbled reply. Flack decided to attempt to reassert some control, and so as much as it pained him to do so, he slowly extracted his damp finger from between her lips and ran it down her sternum. Liz could feel her desire growing--felt an urge to seize those fingers, move them down her body and slip them all the way inside her. Patience was not a virtue the good Doctor possessed in large quantities. But if the attention he'd paid her upper mouth was any indication, his journey down to her other pair of lips would be well worth the wait.

Her logic proved to be sound, for Flack chose that very moment to re-wet his finger and begin tracing lazy circles around Liz's right breast. She let out a noise that was halfway between a sigh and a whimper, and Don relished the thought that he was making such a strong woman moan beneath his touch. Closer and closer he traced towards her nipple, but just as she thought he would take it between his fingers he suddenly moved away and began another wide series of loops around the other firm breast.

She grunted, partially out of disappointment but mostly because he was taking her to a place she'd never let anyone go before. So tactile, so raw—Liz had never trusted anyone to touch her this way. Flack could sense from the way she was beginning to writhe into the comforter that his agonizingly slow pace was working. After reaching the epicenter of her left breast but still denying her the satisfaction of that final touch, he reached over and groped around until he found the edge of Liz's black silk robe. Slowly sliding it up the side of her chest, he grazed the fabric over her hard nipple, feeling it stiffen even further as she uttered a quiet, sexy "Mmmhh." Keeping the silk in place, he stretched his huge, strong hand over her entire full breast and slowly massaged its curves. He took her nipple between two fingers and rolled it until her back began to arch ever so slightly. She was breathing heavily now, longing to open her eyes and watch him torture her body. But she'd be damned if she was gonna let him win.

Suddenly he bent towards her such that his slightly stubbled chin was scraping over the space between her breasts. He quickly put his mouth over both the silk and her nipple and licked her through the robe, producing a small scream from his lover's throat. Then, just as fast as his head had come down, so it pulled back again, and he began repeating the process of teasing her other breast with the slightly chilly silk. Liz's body was being engulfed in pleasure, and she reached out for Flack's hard back with her fingernails. But her attempt was met with fierce resistance. When he felt her fingers snaking up his chest, Don removed his palm from her breasts and guided her arms back over her head. He placed his mouth right next to her ear and ordered in a deep, sexy voice, "Lizzie, just let me touch you."

Looking back later, how she managed to refrain from losing it right there in the wake of his demand was something she couldn't quite fathom. Suffice it to say she acquiesced to his request, wordlessly awaiting his next move.

Instead of returning his hand to her breasts, he began lightly trailing those long fingers down the middle of her body. His hand came to rest just below her navel, splayed out between her hips. Liz sighed deeply as his fingers explored the taut skin of her lower torso, and quietly moaned once more as he gripped each rounded hip between his fingers.

Flack's eyes were still closed as he brought his head back towards Liz's chest. The light, sweet smell of sweat on her skin wafted up to his face, and the ensuing desire that rushed through his body was intoxicating. Licking his wide lips, he leaned over and placed his mouth directly between her breasts. He consumed the area completely, kissing and licking as though his lips were pressed to her mouth. His pulse began to race as he felt her heart beat faster.

Finally he could keep away from her hardened chest no longer, and so he used his tongue to replicate the same slow circles he had traced around her breasts with his fingers. As every inch of her skin was made wet with Flack's mouth, Liz found herself forgetting to breathe. At last his tongue lightly snaked around her areola, and opening his lips wider he came down directly onto her rock-hard nipple. She gasped as he slowly sucked at what lay in his mouth: "Oh, God, D. . .that feels so good." Her fingers couldn't stand to be kept from him any longer, and so as he continued his work on her breast she reached down and slid them into his hair. Not in desperation or baseless lust--she simply craved a connection between her hands and the man that was setting her body ablaze.

When Lizzie had spoken aloud and plunged her hands into his hair, Don had let out an unexpected growl. Someplace deep within his soul had been ignited with the feel of her nails across his scalp. He listened to the sighs and moans escaping his best friend's lips and felt his own excitement level ratchet up one more notch. Flack was beginning to lose his grip on the slow pace he'd set thus far, and so no slow circles were made around Liz's left breast. Instead he shifted such that his pelvis was between her legs and then came down directly on her chest.

The combination of his full erection so close to her throbbing clitoris and his tongue pulling her nipple farther into his mouth brought forth a louder, more insistent stream of moans than she'd uttered so far. Liz felt so beautiful—so alive from the motions his hands and mouth were making. She ran her hands down the ripped muscles of his back, its flesh scarred in places from so many years on the force. Each mark, to her, was a badge of honor received in the line of duty. _He's a damn fine cop_, she thought to herself in a moment of clarity. _Damn fine man and a damn fine cop. And he wants to please me until the sun comes up. _

Liz suddenly realized that this would not be the last time they would make love, and the resulting rush of blood through her veins was enough to put the fiery redhead back in the driver's seat. She found his mouth with her fingers and brought it up to her own lips, enveloping his tongue in the warmth he'd stirred up with his expert foreplay. Once she had him trapped in the kiss, Liz gently rolled to her left and on top of the surprised Detective. His bedmate placed her wet lips on his earlobe and whispered, "You didn't think I was gonna let you have all the fun, did ya?"

She didn't wait for an answer, but instead began intently kissing the length of his neck. Her left hand first found its way back into his hair and playfully curled some of the graying black strands around her fingers. But it didn't say there for long. As Liz's mouth moved farther down his neck, she found his rock-hard dick and lightly brushed her fingers along its impressive length. Flack sucked in a sharp breath, blindly reaching out with his hands to caress the beauty straddling his chest. The woman in charge, however, banished his hands to her well-defined quads for the time being. "No false moves, Detective," she said, smiling through her kisses. "Wouldn't dream of it, Doc," he replied, choosing that very moment to slip a finger down the inside of her thigh. She let him get an inch away from stroking her folds before sliding her body further towards his soaking wet boxers.

Liz covered Flack's chest in full, slow kisses, stopping only briefly to lick his hard pink nipples. A light groan fell from Flack's lips as he relaxed and gave in to the good Doctor's ministrations. He almost laughed aloud as he remembered the cliché roles they'd played the first time they'd had sex—he the bad cop and she a literal interpretation of the title of "head doctor." But this meeting of their bodies, taking place in total blackness, was as far from cliché as could be. In each touch of her lips he could feel the release of long pent-up love. The palpable adoration present in her movements made Flack wish he could open his eyes to watch her mouth meet his skin. But he'd be damned if he was gonna let her win.

She moved down again, and bringing her head to Flack's abs began to kiss his body more deeply. She ran her tongue along the lines of his muscles, unable to resist baring her teeth and grazing them along his hard stomach. With long fingers she searched the plateau of his lower torso until she found the bombing scars she'd stared at not half an hour before. They felt unnaturally smooth compared to the rest of his grainy skin. She wanted to look into his eyes and tell him that she'd be there through anything that might come his way in the future—that even though he was a goddamn Rangers fan, she'd be at his side should his life ever hang in the balance again. But she did not want to ruin the gorgeous silence between them. So instead she brushed the gentlest of kisses over his scarred tissue, relishing the light stroke of her hair that came from Don's hand in response.

Having reached the top of Flack's boxers, Liz took a second to ponder her next move. _Does he get my fingers or my tongue first? _She figured he wouldn't mind a little of both, and as such used her fingernails to pull his underwear down so that it was sitting just above the first curled hairs that lay between his toned legs. Starting at the crest of one of his hipbones, she tucked her tongue just underneath the waistband and very slowly ran it all the way across to the other hip. Flack's body unexpectedly jerked upwards in response to her wet tongue so close to his hard-on, and his pelvis accidentally met her chin with a smacking sound. "Owch!" she said, laughing and rubbing her face. Don sat quickly sat up and worriedly said, "Lizzie, you okay?" She opened her bright green eyes with a mischievous smile and said, "Even better now that I beat you, D."

He gazed at the competitive woman who was grinning wickedly in front of him. Still perched on all fours over his crotch, Liz had her back arched such that the curves of her gorgeous ass were thrust into the air. Flack felt his mouth water as he noticed that the erect nipples of her D-sized breasts were just inches away from brushing his thighs. And his excitement was complete at his observation that through the soft ginger curls covering her pussy, she was wet between her legs. "If I gotta open my eyes for something," he said, still shaking his head at the stunning siren before him, "it might as well be you."

She blushed, but quickly recovered with a breathy "You don't look so bad yourself." Flack was supporting his reclined position on the bed with those muscular arms, engorging the veins that ran from his cut shoulders all the way down to his fingers. His thick torso heaved with the panting of unabandoned lust she could see consuming his eyes. She felt as though both pools of crystal blue were drawing her in, and she had no choice but to answer their call.

Never breaking contact with his beckoning irises, Liz took hold of Flack's boxers and began sliding them off. She sat back, passing his underwear between her legs. He thought she was going to have to turn around to pull them all the way off, but instead she just kept arching her back until her hamstrings met the backs of her calves. His flexible lover then reached over her head and knocked the blue fabric to the floor. When she came back up again she flipped her hair wildly around her face and began crawling up towards Flack. In passing over his huge dick she suddenly dropped her hips and covered him with just a taste of her wetness. He yelled, "Oh, shit, Lizzie!" and decided he couldn't handle it anymore. He had to have her wrapped around him _now._ Sitting up and grabbing at Liz's back, he pulled her into a passionate kiss. Their hands slid over each others' skin—on her breasts, his shoulders, her ass, his abs.

Liz grasped Flack's face in one hand, then took the other and slipped it between her legs. She moaned softly, then pulled her wet fingers out and ran them over the top of his shaft. He bit his lip and groaned at how expertly she was stroking him. She kept moving her strong hands around his engorged dick, teasing pre-cum from its tip and smearing it everywhere.

"Baby, wait," he said, taking her soaked fingers and rubbing them on his chest. "I wanna be inside you for this." He reached back over his head and opened the drawer of the nightstand, pulling out a condom. She snatched it from his hand and tore into the wrapper voraciously. Putting the tip of the condom between her lips, she lowered it onto his cock with her mouth and sucked the top gently while rolling the rest of the rubber down. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he literally had to tear himself away from her lips to keep from exploding.

"C'mere, beautiful," he said, pulling her pale-skinned body towards him. Sticking his middle finger in his mouth until it was good and wet, Flack slid it between her spread legs. "Ummmhhhh," came the response from his usually incredibly articulate partner. Working his finger in a circle, he smiled viciously as she continued to moan. "What's that, Lizzie?" he said, innocently. "I can't hear you." She glared at him and reached behind her to take his soaking cock in her hand. Breathing heavily, he tipped his head forward to suck on her right breast, and both of them were soon immersed in bringing each other to the very threshold of control. At last they realized that Flack's fingers alone weren't going to give them what they both wanted so badly.

Grasping her hips tightly, Flack moved Liz until she was positioned directly over his waiting cock. She spread the folds of her drenched pussy wide and slowly eased herself onto him.

As he slid into her, they both gasped in pleasure. She was warm and wet, and his size electrified her every nerve. Just as it had always been, they fit together perfectly. . .he filling her up and she enveloping him. They stayed locked together for a moment, feeling the contact between their bodies heat up the room. Then Liz began to move gently over Flack's pelvis, and he pulled back so he could watch. She closed her eyes, wanting to take in every second of riding him. It felt so good to slowly slide his thick cock in and out of her. Her moaning deepened with each move, and as she put her hands in her wild red hair Flack thought he'd surely lose it before she came. He lay all the way back on the bed so as to change his angle of penetration—and hopefully delay his climax long enough for his lover to get what she needed. What he desperately wanted to give her.

He placed two of his fingers just underneath her clit, and immediately the nature of her moans changed. "Mmmmh, D, that feels so good. . .you feel so good inside me." He could feel her pussy's walls start to contract slightly, and he could tell from her flushed face that she was close. He was getting ready to explode himself, and so he sat up again and demanded, "Lizzie, open your eyes. I wanna see your face when you come for me." Her green eyes flew open and, verging on the brink of orgasm she panted, "You mean when _you_ come for _me_." This assertiveness only pushed him further towards the edge of release, but he didn't want it to end yet. He wanted to stay inside her for hours, to feel every muscle in her tight body strain as she moved her hips into his own. Flack dug deep and found the strength to refrain from flowing into her just yet. "Damn, you look so sexy right now," he said, his blue eyes filled with reverence. She bent her head to kiss him deeply, and the slight change of motion was enough to bring her to a new level of sensitivity. Liz let out a long moan into Flack's mouth as she continued to take him in.

They gently rocked back and forth together, whispering in each others' ears while her breasts grazed his chest. "Oh God, Lizzie. . . Ooohh, yes, D. . . Shit, Red, don't stop. . .Don, you know you wanna come inside me." Liz could feel herself begin to quake around him, a flood of heat taking over her body from the inside. Just as she succumbed to an explosion of release, Don went over the edge as well. He felt his very essence get lost inside of her as he forcefully erupted into the condom. Waves of ecstasy washed over them both as they shuddered and moaned in unison.

At last Flack fell back on to the bed, utterly spent. Liz followed suit and laid her exhausted frame over his lean muscles. Sweat from their bodies mixed with the thick scent of sex in the air, producing deep sighs from both of their mouths.

Flack moved first, easing his bedmate off his pecs with a fluid motion. He kissed her forehead tenderly and she flashed him a shit-eating grin, still consumed by utter bliss in the wake of her shattering orgasm. Sitting upright, Don carefully removed the very full condom from his body and went to clean up. She had drained him so completely that he couldn't even walk straight. After cutting a crooked path into the bathroom and washing up, Flack took a look in the mirror and noted the smile that was on his lips. _She's so damn beautiful, _he thought. _She just made me feel shit I didn't even know I could feel._ _And she wants to put up with my stubborn ass? Maybe even for the rest of our lives? I'll take it. _

Liz stirred and rolled over after her lover left the bed, stretching her arms over her still-spinning head. _He's so fucking beautiful, _she thought. _He just made me feel shit I didn't even know I could feel. And he wants to put up with my crazy ass? Maybe even for the rest of our lives? Hell yeah, I'll take it! _

Don emerged from the bathroom and stood at the foot of his bed, admiring the fine form of the naked goddess before him. He ran a hand over her smooth bent leg, then slid his fingers up her torso as he crawled to lie flush with the right side of her body. She turned towards him and the two lovers' lips met in a kiss. She pulled back first and laughed a little bit. "What's up, Doc?" Flack queried. Liz grinned and asked, "D'you remember the last time we had sex?"

He raised his thick eyebrows at her. "You really think I could forget that, Lizzie?" The last time their bodies met had been more of a war than a lovemaking session. Confusion about the state of their friendship and a particularly tense hockey game (the Bruins had won) had translated into the roughest sex either of them had ever experienced. They'd fucked each other in every room of Liz's house in Cambridge--breaking glasses, slamming into walls, raking each others' skin and swearing at the top of their lungs. Flack didn't know a woman could say fuck that many times in one night—and Liz had never been bent over both arms of a couch before. They were both bleeding and completely out of breath by the time they were done, and they'd freaked Jack out to the point where Liz didn't see her cat for the next three days. It was raw, rough and totally out of control.

She reached out with a finger and stroked his cheek. "Well, fun as that was, I think I liked what we just did much better." His beautiful mouth grinned as he nodded and said, "Yeah, me too. And y'know there's a lot more where that came from."

"Lookin' forward to it, Detective."

They fell into silence for a few moments, choosing instead to speak to each others' bodies through their hands. Flack reached out and stroked Liz's rainbow tattoo with his fingers, once more admiring the vivid colors stretching across her ribs. _Don't worry, boys,_ Flack thought, his mind turning to Matty and PK. _I'm gonna take good care of Lizzie. She misses ya like crazy and I know I'm never gonna be what you were to her. But I promise that nobody's gonna hurt her as long as I'm around. _

Liz began lightly tracing the angel on Flack's deltoid with her nails, thinking of the brunette beauty that inspired its simple lines. _Jess, I know he's got a hole in his heart from your death that I'm never gonna be able to fill. But I'll take good care of him. Ain't nobody gonna mess with him as long as I'm around. . .I promise._

The first pink hints of the sunrise began to snake their way around the skyscrapers of New York City, and the Doctor and the Detective were filled with hope at meeting the first day of their new lives together. Liz closed the small gap between their bodies and buried her head in Flack's neck. Closing her eyes, she tipped her mouth towards his ear and whispered, "I love you, D. Even if you are a fuckin' Yankees fan."

He wrapped his arms around her back and kissed her neck. His response came in her ear, swift and in a deep whisper. "I love you too, Lizzie. Even if your damn Sox got no class whatsoever."

She pulled back and flicked him in the forehead, giving him a stern glare before shaking her head in mock disapproval and settling back into his warm embrace. Peace reigned over the slowly brightening bedroom as two long-separated souls intertwined at last. Inked with the memories of their lost loved ones, Liz and Flack soon fell asleep in each other's arms.


End file.
